


Ride Out Until We Die Out

by MadamRogers



Category: Westworld (TV)
Genre: F/M, Logan being the douche he is, Logan hates your horse, Some fighting, a lot of thinking, but your horse hates Logan, the first "I love you", the jerk and his girl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-14 05:01:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16906584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadamRogers/pseuds/MadamRogers
Summary: Logan has taken you to Westworld with him. But what happens when you two end up in the middle of a fight at a saloon and it turns out to be success for the two of you?





	Ride Out Until We Die Out

His face was decorated with the widest grin. The hat still a bit out of place, he worked with his trousers to leave more for guessing. You huffed and crossed your arms over your chest, leaning your left shoulder against the pole next to you. The closer he was, the brighter his grin was and the harder it was for you not to roll your eyes. The brown horse behind you made low noises as if it had seen Logan too and was now judging him in its own way.

“I know, buddy,” you threw a glance at the horse, “he’s such a jerk.” 

“Who is a jerk?” 

He righted the black jacket on his shoulders and met your gaze.

“The biggest jerk of the world’s history,” you said and leaned your back against the pole now. The horse behind you swayed its head a little.

“You must mean that horse,” Logan said and stopped in front of you.

“Hmm, no, that horse is my buddy.”

Logan glanced at the brown animal over your shoulder and without righting his head turned his eyes back at you. “Seriously? The horse?”

“He’s been giving me a company when you’ve been busy with fucking the hosts. Is it worth it?”

“Try for yourself. I’ve seen how they’ve been looking at you too,” he was looking at you like that himself. You had gotten used to it a long time ago and didn’t pay too much attention to it, just waved it off with a movement of your head. 

“Nah,” you buzzed. “I’m not here to fuck robots.”

“You can shoot them, but fucking is out of the question?” Logan took a studying step closer. 

Because of the way you looked at him he knew this conversation was over. He tilted his head almost to his shoulder and his eyebrows were raised for a moment as he looked at you. “With all due respect, you’re running from all the fun.”

“No, my definition of fun just doesn’t meet yours,” you stated like it was something obvious.

He shot you an amused grin. It was a lot similar to the one he had had when he came. “That’s the difference between us. The definition of fun.”

You just looked at him, his black hat that was still very much out of place and the way his grin turned from amused to waiting as if your silence wasn’t very comfortable. You let out a snorting sound and shook your head, blowing some air out of your lungs. 

“I just told the horse you’re such a pain in my ass,” you changed the subject, kicking the sand with the tip of your boot. 

“So,” he left his mouth open for a few seconds and didn’t look amused anymore. Not at all. He turned his palms to meet the sky and his face just collapsed until he looked more arrogantly pissed than in a while, “I’m a jerk,” he said, the way very much exaggerated, but like he would’ve cared. 

You met his theatrical gaze with your calm one and shrugged with a bored pout. 

He crossed his own arms against his chest as yours fell down and hands disappeared behind your back around the pole. “You little… Yes. Good morning,” he tilted his head quickly again during those two words. But nothing came out. You could see he tried to figure out something not so fancy to call you, but he was silent and just looked at you with those nearly black orbs. 

“Morning, Logan,” your hands came back against your chest. You looked like two fighting children. “Are we going to have this conversation again? You were fucking the hosts. It’s not something I’m interested in, don’t go into details.”

You saw the tip of his tongue as he let it touch his lips. “You know what day it is?”

“I do know, yes,” your serious tone matched his. “The day we can finally get out of this Silent Hill.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“It’s just as bad.”

He chuckled and freed his arms. “You win, but only for now. Is the other horse for me?”

“I didn’t think you’d like to walk. I take this brown one, though. He’s my friend and I think I’ve helped him develop some hate towards you.”

“You suck.”

You just laughed, almost fondly. This was normal between you two. After being friends with Logan for a few years, you had gotten used to all of his quirks and thoughts, the ways he just said something like that to you without actually meaning it.

You also knew he could’ve meant that just as much as he meant the question about the other horse next to your brown friend. He was full of quirks, and if you would’ve been only a little wiser, you would’ve made sure to get as far away from him as possible. He brought never-ending annoyance, disgusting words and all the other fuss with him, but you actually liked it. He was so annoying that he was actually quite charming and fun to be with.

In reality, he was so annoying that most of the time you wanted to punch his nose inside his scull or teeth out of his mouth. Those perfectly white teeth. 

Was there even a small spot of him that wasn’t physically perfect? Because yes, he was pretty nice to look at. It was almost irritating. But he really wasn’t nice to listen to, not nearly as often as he was nice to look at. 

He would’ve been even nicer if the amount of time he was able to stay quiet was longer than fifty-six seconds.

Yes, you had calculated. Precisely fifty-six seconds. Logan Delos was able to stay quiet for fifty-six seconds, and you enjoyed every single one of those seconds like a sweet dream. 

“Let’s go and fuck some shit up then!” he informed with high-pitched voice and made his way to the black horse next to your brown friend. You followed him with your eyes until you had to turn to actually see him again. That was the moment you freed the horse from the pole and climbed on the saddle. 

He was only a few short meters behind you as you left the city without looking back.

*

“That means you stole these horses,” he argued. 

You let out a huff and tapped your brown friend’s neck. “If I need them more than anyone in that Silent Hill, then I don’t think it’s stealing. Besides, since when have you started to care about stealing?”

He met your eyes with this smug grin on his face. You replied to it with one of your own smirks and turned back to look ahead of you, riding past him. He was quick to follow but let you have a few meters for yourself. 

You were tougher than he had thought. He had seen some completely new parts of you in Westworld. Parts he didn’t even think would be there; you were a tough, witty woman who wasn’t afraid of challenges or telling people where they should stand. And you were not scared of standing your ground, which gave him such a good opponent in… well, almost everything. You were quite different in many ways, you and him, but he had been able to find something in you that had took him even closer to you. You had had this thing people could call friendship, but the time you had spent together in Westworld had only made it stronger. 

Perhaps even stronger than a friendship… 

You slowed down and turned over your shoulder to look at him. “Logan? What’s going on?” you had laughter in your voice. 

In his ears, it flew in the wind and met his ears the sweetest way possible. Much sweeter than the sound your horse made. It made him huff. 

“Your horse kicked sand right into my eyes,” he shouted his answer to you, making it right next to you.

“No, he didn’t,” you chuckled and put your own black hat a little straighter. “Can you actually ride?”

“In which way?” he grinned.

You stared at him with a bored expression that was almost blaming. Rolling your eyes, you just rode away from him without bothering to answer his question. You knew him well enough to know he wasn’t waiting for it to be answered. You weren’t going to give him anything to laugh at.

You had explored many storylines together during your stay in Westworld, but had ended up wandering around. It was much more exciting to meet whatever the road wanted to give you, knowing it wasn’t part of any storyline. You had named the city Silent Hill because it really was silent and almost dead, but Logan had liked it for many different reasons. You, on the other hand… not so much. It would’ve probably been much more bearable if Logan had stayed with you, but no, he had been fooling around and having some fun every night. You hadn’t slept much during those nights. Even though you knew he could take care of himself, in most cases, you were still worried. That hedonistic path he was travelling could easily ruin him for good. Maybe it had ruined him; maybe he had been different before.

You knew what kind of a man Logan really was. Behind his quirks and annoying behavior, short silences and God knows what. You really thought you knew.  
You also noticed that during the ride he had been oddly quiet. Usually he was either trying to have a useless conversation about something or bragging, mostly about himself and what he had been doing, but not this time. It was odd, yet you actually liked it. For once, he was quiet. Whatever that reason was, you wouldn’t know it anyway, so you didn’t bother to ask. He never bothered to tell you those things. He had amazing abilities to look annoyed and careless at the same time so you rarely knew what the heck was happening in his head anyway. 

You wished you knew, though…

*

The saloon you had found your way in was nothing like the Mariposa Saloon in Sweetwater, but it was the best you could have. It was foul and full of noise, and the second you stepped inside behind Logan, you could feel the eyes that stopped to look at you. And those looks, they weren’t the nicest kind. But you just walked behind Logan, the sleeves of your shirt rolled up to your elbows and the black hat decorating your head. 

Logan ordered some liquor that tasted so bad you nearly spat it back to the glass while he poured it all down at once. 

“Still not fancying that?” he asked, the glass making a low sound when it met the wooden surface.

“No, I’m not. What is this?”

“I have no idea,” he looked over his shoulder. “Give it to me.”

You happily handed your glass over to him by pushing it towards him with your fingertips. You startled and subconsciously bent your knees as if to escape whatever might fly through the air. But nothing flew, at least not at you; a glass cracked against the wall, shards flying around as the man who had thrown it got up from his seat. The chair fell down with a loud sound, the man’s face turned grey from rage and his hard steps echoed through the saloon as he made his way to the other man. You couldn’t make out what he shouted as he grabbed the man by his neck and threw him against the wall.

You righted your body and, just like every other pair of eyes in the saloon, looked at the fighting men. “Is this about money, a woman or something else?”

“Looks like the other guy’s face just annoys him, and he’s about to make it prettier.”

You glared at him. “Always so considerate.”

“What?” Logan let out a laugh and emptied the content of your glass into his mouth. “I don’t think you are any more – “

His sentence never ended. He had to bend down himself when someone threw a glass. But the thing was that… it wasn’t a glass. At least the one that hit the wall just above Logan’s head. He cursed as he looked at the violent bullet hole on the wall and then turned to you.

“I think we have the shit we want, Y/N,” his head was still towards the hole on the wall, and your gaze found it, then Logan’s face and then the hole again. 

“What do you suggest?” you glanced at the other end of the saloon. Your gaze met a mess; a violent but in some very inappropriate way very exciting mess. The tables and chairs were thrown all around the place, men were hiding behind them, meeting each other with fists or boots or muzzle blasts, gunshots echoed on the walls. 

Logan looked a bit too excited and triumphant as he finally met your eyes. This time he had his own gun. “Follow my lead.”

It was the only thing he said. After that he was in the middle of the fight. 

You couldn’t blame him. It had started as a scuffle of two men but ended up filling the whole saloon with fighting, dying and shouting. Women ran as fast as they could, men stayed inside to join the fun. In just mere minutes, the whole place was destroyed.

And in no time, you were in the middle of it too. Many men tried to shoot you and the expressions on their faces when they realized it didn’t work were priceless. 

Head. Head. 

“Sorry, boys,” you looked at the hosts, the holes you had made on their heads. “You have no power here.”

You turned around.

Shoulder. Chest. Head.

When you turned again, you got a hit right against your left cheek. Throwing your head back, you clenched your jaw, cursing under your own breath. 

Logan saw it. In his eyes, the hit you got looked worse than it actually was. He heard the sound you made; in his ears it was sound of pure pain instead of mixed with anger.   
He pointed at the man with his gun. “Not my girl, you halfwit,” he pulled the trigger, and before you could do anything, the man fell down with a hole on his temple. Logan shrugged when you turned towards him, like it was nothing. Then he was away again, leaving you there breathing out a ragged breath and rubbing the inside of your beating cheek with your tongue. 

It took minutes, more and more minutes, but then it was over. The last man fell down against the flipped table, and then there were only you and Logan. You turned to look at him, catching your breath you grinned as you saw how wide his own grin was. His teeth visited his lower lip through the almost aroused and smug grin he had. 

“Damn,” he moved his head and made a sound that was like a moaning laugh. “Holy shit…”

He kicked the boot of one dead man and made his way towards you. You stood there by one of the tables; it was broken and had a few bullet holes. Hosts were lying all around you and your left cheek was starting to get a bruise. 

“Damn, that was something…” He made it in front of you, but just kept walking. He walked until he had no space, his chest hit yours and hands cupped your cheeks, there was only inches between your faces. “I love you.”

His lips were on yours. They crashed against yours; he pulled you to him and kept you there. Your cheek was beating under his touch, you almost winced and backed away, but couldn’t. You kissed him back just as messy and hard. It was sweaty, hot and harsh and lasted so long you were breathless, gasped as you leaned back.

“Logan… What did you say?” you looked up from his lips. His eyes were on you, almost black and shameless, but they didn’t lie. 

“I said I love you.”

Even his voice was full of truth. 

The way he spoke… The words went straight to your head, to the place where all your rational thinking usually happened. 

And you realized it. 

Why you had been worried about him every single night in that god-forsaken city. 

Why you were able to handle all his quirks and his whole being when others couldn’t.

Why you were almost willing to do that.

Why you…

were here.

“I love you too,” you almost whispered it, words meeting his lips as you lifted your gaze back up to his eyes.

“I want you to be mine,” his voice, it was lower and more serious, darker than before. 

“I’m yours.”

This time he was close to you just to meet you, not to own you. He minded the bruise on your cheek, you pressed your own hand over his and they both met your bruise so hard you took a breath. 

But then his lips were on yours again and you forgot the beating pain. The kiss was hard and deep but it lacked the harshness it had had before. You had seen him kissing women. But you had never thought it would feel like this. 

“Logan, I’ve been yours long before even realizing it myself.”

You felt love in that kiss. 

And you let him feel your own love, how thankful you were that he had shot the man, gave him a promise to be his for as long as he wanted to have you.


End file.
